


Saltwater

by Enzuri



Series: SeaSalt [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Blow Job, Elementbound, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Smut, club, driving in cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enzuri/pseuds/Enzuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An AU for my Elementbound AU. Basically, humans and trolls on the same planet. Who am I kidding this is so I can write more smut of you guessed it, Salt and Zulmar.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Saltwater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starobots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starobots/gifts).



> An AU for my Elementbound AU. Basically, humans and trolls on the same planet. Who am I kidding this is so I can write more smut of you guessed it, Salt and Zulmar.

You don't know why you're here. You were never much for clubbing in the past and its not like today is really any different. But there's something about all these bodies jammed together, a rainbow of skin in all shades, even grey, that you find almost freeing. Here there's no distinction between humans or trolls or anything really and you'd gotten just so tired of pretending not to give a fuck that you're glad for a place where you really just don't care.

You don't dance. Instead you hug the walls and watch as everyone lets go of it all and just let's the music drive them. You're a little envious of them but not enough for it to show. You're never anything enough for it to really show. But your eyes are hungry as you peer out at the crowd with icy eyes and you wonder what it would take for you to want to join them. 

"I bet that you would look good on the dance floor." 

The voice in your ear startled you, low and crumbly and somehow audible over that thumping beat. You have to look up to see the face of the troll who's decided to claim the wall to your left, his strange yellow and purple eyes on your face. You just shake your head at him and go back to people watching, figuring he'll take the hint.

He doesn't.

"Aw come on just one dance."

Still nothing from you, your face neutral as you observe some girl accidentally spill her drink on a hyper looking troll. There must be no hard feelings because they've started to dance. He's watching the same scene playing out because it gives him an idea. 

"Do I have to get a drink to spill on you to say yes? Fuck you're cold. I came all the way over to say hello, least you can do is dance with me. I'm fucking royalty for cod's sake." 

You glance at him again. Right you'd forgotten that those fins mean he's a seadweller and that seadwellers are the troll equivalent of upper class. 

"Crawl back to whatever swamp you came from."

That must have pissed him off because he's stuttering and spitting curses at you. But he doesn't leave. No. What he does do is grab your wrist and wrench you out onto the dance floor, choosing a dark corner of it that's mostly hidden, you couldn't see it from where you were before. His hands find your hips, grabbing hard enough to bruise through your jeans. He starts to sway, firm grip taking you with him. You might not go to clubs that often but you know how to dance and it doesn't take much more encouragement for you to feel the rhythm of it on your own. 

He growls in your ear and it sends a shiver up your spine because he partners it with a hard grind against you. Your bodies are pressed closer than they should be, for dancing to really work but you don't care because the friction of it has parts of you stirring and you can feel yourself start to pant. It doesn't take much of this obscene excuse for a dance to leave you forgetting about everything else but him. One song blurs into another into another until you aren't sure when one ends and the next begins.

He gets you backed up against the wall, a pulsing crowd between you and your only escape option only you don't want to run away. What you do want is to keep grinding up against this troll like nothing else matters. He doesn't seem to disagree, his face lost in something halfway between bliss and rage. 

This is one problem however. Your cock at some point along the way decided it was time to play and now was pressing painfully up against the zipper of your too tight jeans. The jeans are too well fitting for no one to notice how strained they'd become and you're about to ask this pushy asshole if he wants to go somewhere when he slides his hand down over your crotch.

He kneads at your erection mercilessly, hand rough and fast and the fabric between you hurts so good. You need to tell him to stop because you're getting awfully close but when you open your mouth to say something he covers it with his own and just presses down harder. You want to die when you feel the heat that fills your jeans. There's a flush that darkens your cheeks in the most humiliating way and he's looking at you like he can't decide if he's horrified or delighted. 

"That's disgusting." Horrified. "Come on let's go." Or maybe delighted.

He drags you to his car, asks where you live and you're thanking gods you don't believe in that your uncle is away on an expedition and you have the apartment to yourself. He takes off from the parking lot with a squeal of tires and you think about telling him to slow down but you're eager to get out of your ruined pants. There's an awkward silence between you though and you quickly wonder if this was a bad idea. 

You'd heard that trolls had sharp talon like nails but hadn't had it confirmed until now, his fingers twisted and scraping in your pale hair, pushing your face down. You wonder when he had time to unzip his pants and is that really what a troll bulge looks like? You'd never seen one in person before but now you're getting to know it intimately as it pushes past your lips. 

It's bigger than you expected and it seems to move on its own, tangling up with your tongue. He likes it when you try to free it, he moans, at least that's what it sounds like. He twitches his hips and pushes on your head until you got the root of past you lips and you gag. Again he's only encouraged by it, nails dragging stinging lines along your scalp.

It occurs to you how fucking dangerous this is, he's driving too fast and you've got him distracted and fuck. You can feel yourself starting to swell against the gross fabric once more and you squirm. He reaches a red like or a stop sign or something and really grinds up into your mouth. Surprised you let your jaw slip and your teeth graze his bulge harder than you would have liked but clearly it was more than enough for the troll because you're trying to swallow the genetic material he's spilling down your throat. 

The writhing organ stills in your mouth, the car moving forward again. You pull yourself up when there's another pause in the motion, lips swollen from the abuse. He stares at you for a minutes before jerking his head at the window on your side. youre here. He raises an eyebrow and you're starting to realize he has no intention of following you up. You climb out wordless, purple still dripping down your chin. You don't bother watching the car speed off.

You get upstairs as quick as you can. You've got a problem to take care of while the memory of his face is still fresh.


End file.
